with fear and trembling

during the darkest days of the past four years, reading was a necessary diversion. it kept the mind off my life. it kept me contemplating things other than our seeming inevitable demise.

i was without book yesterday, by choice. one of the few times in the last four years i've gone out without my diversionary tactic.

writing reviews is a hobby, let's say. one i gladly and constantly pursue.

being a lover of roller coasters, fast rides, and anything that is not a large boat swinging ad nauseum, or deliberate plunging after rising to the height of a modest skyscraper. all other rides i enjoy.

i had hoped my girl would follow suit. but this was her first venture to six flags, and i knew to push too hard would result only in aversion. and i do want to groom a ride companion after all (since the hubby won't go on rides).

i spent the better part of the day in looney tunes usa, parked on a bench while she went on the teacups (which resembled shot glasses or oil barrels), the little swings, the bumpercars, and assorted train type rides, most of which my abundant derrier would not have enjoyed. this is one instance my being undertall was not an issue.

i used to love to watch people but seldom do i have the time or inclination to do that. bookless, my mind roamed through memories long gone. i noticed the streaking grey on the heads of others waiting for their little ones.

short hispanics, tall anglos, colorful african americans, the odd native american, men with blinding white legs all wandered by.

i remembered all the years my brave--now eighty plus year old--grandmother took us to disneyland. i remember weeping in line for space mountain and taking the chicken exit. sitting on benches with grandma until the older cousins and my sister appeared.

i have become my grandmother. and my mother. it seems. and i quite enjoy the role.

so many memories returned to me yesterday and i was present in the making of new memories with my girl.

it is worthwhile and perhaps ideal to block out pain, but in the blocking out of pain, one must try not to block out life. i've noticed my reluctance to let the books go. to return to a more natural contemplation.

but as i sat there at the end of a very long day wanting only to go to bed, i realized how i'm in the older set now. and i can check out from the pain completely (thereby checking out of relationship with family and friends) or i can choose to return to the engaged life (at a slower pace perhaps).

i've begun my return. hestiantly. cautiously. but alas, i've begun.